


How Strait the Gate

by Lomonaaeren



Series: Advent Fics 2014 [35]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomonaaeren/pseuds/Lomonaaeren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Draco and Harry are arguing, Narcissa is the one who can best understand--and help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Strait the Gate

**Author's Note:**

> This is an Advent fic for cheshyre, who asked for a follow-up to Bloody But Unbowed and For Their Unconquerable Souls where Narcissa gets to be mothering to Harry. Like the titles of those stories, the title of this one is taken from William Ernest Henley's "Invictus": "It matters not how strait the gate,/ How charged with punishments the scroll,/ I am the master of my fate,/ I am the captain of my soul."

Narcissa paused with one hand on the door of Harry's bedroom. Well, perhaps better to say Harry's retreat room, at this point. He and Draco had shared a bed long enough that Draco's suites were truly both of theirs.  
  
She could hear none of the sobs she had feared she would hear behind the door. That did not necessarily mean something good, of course. Harry could be sitting on one of the chairs sunk in the blank depression that he often assumed when something like this happened. And considering the cause of the argument...  
  
Narcissa sighed, soundlessly, as it would not do to show disappointment too openly. Harry was feeling enough of that right now.  
  
She knocked.  
  
It took Harry long moments to respond, and then Narcissa clearly heard the shuffle of his feet over the carpets. She nodded. That augured well for her guess that he had been sitting down with his head in his hands before this. Pacing would have been audible, and more cheerful.  
  
When Harry opened the door, he looked at her for long seconds as if he didn't recognize her, then closed his eyes and leaned his scar against the wood. "Narcissa," he mumbled. "I'm sorry, it's not a great time. Something happened today that I--didn't expect. Can you come back later?"  
  
"I'm afraid not," said Narcissa. "I freed this corner of the afternoon specifically for you. At three, I have to begin my secret plans for world domination again."  
  
It got her a ghostly smile, but it was a smile. Harry stepped back and let Narcissa into the deep green bedroom she had once chosen for him.  
  
The room was still beautiful, but what was not beautiful to Narcissa was the upset man in the middle of it, the man who had saved her husband's life and become her son's lover and part of the family. Narcissa took the first chair that was not piled with books and spread her robes out, keeping an expectant eye on Harry.  
  
Harry gave a deep, troubled breath and began to stalk around the room picking up random books and laying them down. Narcissa tolerated that for only a few moments, and then locked her eyes on Harry's face and said, "Don't pick up on my account."  
  
"I'm sorry, I haven't let the house-elves in here for a while," said Harry, and flashed her a strained smile. "I know it looks messy--"  
  
"I'm more concerned about you than the state of the room," Narcissa said. In truth, she was pleased to see Harry spread out a bit and forget the uptight poise he'd maintained during his first few weeks in the Manor. It was a sign that he had accepted this place as his own, too, and that he was not here as a guest.  
  
Harry hesitated once, then sank down in the chair that had probably seen his depression earlier that day. "It's not a big problem," he said, staring at the floor between his feet. "They told me I can take it again." Then he flinched, as though someone invisible was sneering over his shoulder at him.  
  
Narcissa knew who that invisible person was, and she experienced one of her brief spasms of anger at Severus. She owed him much, and it was useless to be angry at the dead, anyway, so she did not feel them often.  
  
But in this case, Severus had utterly destroyed Harry's confidence in himself as a Potions brewer, and one needed to be able to get an acceptable mark on the Potions NEWT in order to be a Healer. Harry had been only a mediwizard for years despite his knowledge in areas other than Potions. Draco had been tutoring him in Potions so that he could take that NEWT, and it had seemed to be going well.  
  
But Harry had come back that afternoon with a cloud on his face, and a shouting match with Draco had immediately followed. Then came Harry's retreat to this room.  
  
"You realize," Narcissa said, her voice gentle, "that your worth as a person does not depend on the mark on your Potions NEWT."  
  
"Oh, of course I know that," said Harry, but he was staring past her at the wall, and Narcissa suspected she would have received the same calm assent to a statement that she was about to let the peacocks into the house.  
  
"And Draco does not think it does, either," Narcissa added.  
  
Harry gave her a look of such acute misery that Narcissa's anger shifted target slightly. The wound Severus had dealt to Harry's self-confidence was the older one, and still a problem. But obviously, Draco had said something that afternoon that had widened the wound considerably.  
  
"Sometimes he does," Harry mumbled into his hands, and he winced again, as though Draco was right there, still poking words into his ears.  
  
"What did he say?" Narcissa controlled her anger. This might not be the right moment for it. This might be based essentially on a misunderstanding, and Harry's own insecurity and tendency to undervalue himself.  
  
"He said that I should have got a good mark because he was the one tutoring me." Harry's voice was muffled, and he put his hands over his ears and stared down into his lap, as though he would shut himself in with the hurtful words. "He said that I must not have been paying attention to the wording of the questions. That I panicked, and that was a stupid thing to do. That I must not want to be a Healer as well as a mediwizard, and now he knows why I _really_ wasn't Sorted into Slytherin, because I don't have enough ambition and I can just change pillows for the rest of my life if that's what I want."  
  
 _No, this is the right moment for it._  
  
"You know that Draco takes any sort of failure personally?" Narcissa reached out and captured Harry's hand, although he seemed to be trying to drill it into his lap and keep it there permanently. "Just as he did when he failed to gain your friendship. He could not let it go, or see it as some sort of difference in your backgrounds. He took it as a personal failure, which meant he had to rectify it by a personal vengeance."  
  
Harry blinked. "But...he seems to be so much more mature now."  
  
" _Seems,_ " said Narcissa, and won a tentative smile from Harry again.  
  
It faded in a second. "He's not the one who failed, though," Harry said, and looked at his hands. "He's not the one who actually took the exam and didn't get the right marks. I don't know why you would say that matters in this case."  
  
"Because he is the one who tutored you," said Narcissa. "And he sees any sort of failure in someone he tutors as reflecting on his tutoring."  
  
Harry immediately shook his head. "It's not his problem."  
  
"He will make it so," said Narcissa, and turned back to a different facet of the argument. "But no matter his anger or his disappointment, he had no right to say what he did to you. Did he even give you the chance to tell him the story of the exam? Or did he immediately start talking about what you'd done wrong?"  
  
"You know him really well," said Harry gloomily.  
  
"I am his mother," Narcissa said. "And for the first part of his life, the one who took the largest role in counteracting whatever messes he had got himself into." She won a reluctant smile from Harry at that. A total of three was not bad, considering how recently she had begun speaking to him. "In this case, one thing to remember is that he is not the only party involved here."  
  
"Well, yeah, I know that." This time, Harry cocked his head and studied her. "But I did panic when I saw some of the questions. I couldn't figure them out. They were too close to each other, you know? It would ask about whether a potion was primarily used to heal people or to relax them, and I used that potion in equal amounts for both purposes."  
  
Narcissa squeezed his hand. "So the problem was the word _primarily_?"  
  
Harry nodded. "And other words like it," he muttered.  
  
"Will you tell me what mark you received on it?"  
  
Harry glanced at her, hesitated, and then said, "Acceptable."  
  
"Ah," said Narcissa. "So, not horrible, but not the mark that a Healer needs to be accepted as a Healer."  
  
"Yeah." Harry flopped back limply against the chair and stared up at the ceiling again. "I just don't know if I should even try to change it. It might happen again, and how many tries does it take for me to see that I'm just _not good_ at something? Besides, I've had a good time as a mediwizard."  
  
"In one thing only, Draco was right," Narcissa said. "You are ambitious, but you let one setback hurt that ambition too much. Remember the plans that you had to rid the world of the Dark Lord. Did they end because you had experienced one time when he annoyed you, or hurt you, or beset you?"  
  
"Trying to survive him was a little different from trying to get a mark higher than Acceptable on my Potions NEWT," Harry said, and flushed in what looked like annoyance.  
  
"Why?" Narcissa asked gently. "Do you think that you can _never_ improve it? Is that your true evaluation of yourself talking? Or only the momentary despair stemming from your first try and your argument with Draco?" She met Harry's gaze gently, not letting the steel behind it, like a sword crossing hers, defeat her. "Think about that."  
  
"Oh, I know what it is," Harry said, and turned away and hunched a shoulder, scowling at her a little. "But it would have been nice if I could just sit here and wallow a bit. I might not even have argued with Draco if he had let me do that before he started trying to talk to me about it," Harry added wistfully, and probably truthfully.  
  
"You are the mediwizard who saved my husband's life by tying that life to the beat of his heart," Narcissa said gently. "You are the one who survived so many challenges that many of the Healers who look down on you for not achieving an acceptable mark would not have lived through. You bore contempt and accusations and public opprobrium. You can do this."  
  
Harry looked again at his hands, but this time, there was a smile tugging at his lips that was neither reluctant nor faint, and one that Narcissa could account a victory. "You have a way of making things sound so easy," he said, and met her eyes. "It's not going to be that easy, you know. Especially if Draco refuses to tutor me again."  
  
"Then I will do so," Narcissa said firmly. "He is not the only one who has some Potions talent in the family, although he is the one who has the most and wished the most to make something of it."  
  
Harry blinked and sat up a little. "You would--you'd really?"  
  
"My life is not governed by the dictates of my son," said Narcissa, and smiled at Harry until he smiled back at her. "He is no longer a newborn. If you will accept my tutoring, then I will give it to you." She thought that Draco would make more of a fuss than none at all, but he would either be calm and patient with Harry or he wouldn't tutor him.  
  
Narcissa could make many indulgences for the flaws her son, and her husband, had; they were not perfect human beings, in the ancient pure-blood mold or otherwise, but they were better people than the world had long believed. That was not to say that she would let Draco hurt Harry because of his misguided idea that Harry could have done better and was doing badly _on purpose._ What Harry described was what had happened, and an Acceptable was not a Troll.  
  
He might have exaggerated certain parts of what had happened, or misremembered them. That was a possibility. Nonetheless, Narcissa doubted that she would need to spend much time teaching him Potions knowledge in and of itself. Of more value would be how to calm down when he was in a stressful situation, how to breathe deeply and find a way to process what was in front of him, the most likely meaning of words and not _every_ meaning.  
  
"They said that I can't retake the exam for a while." Harry's voice was slow, considering, and he had abandoned both his hunched posture and his air of hopelessness. "Does that mean we can start the lessons soon?"  
  
Narcissa smiled at him. "Of course. I'm glad to see that you've decided your ambition is more important than one failure."  
  
"It's easy when I have such supportive friends."  
  
Narcissa squeezed Harry's hand once more and stood up. "There are some books I'll need to look for. I haven't used them in years. One doesn't, you know, when the knowledge gets into one's mind and blood."  
  
Harry snorted. "I don't know if I'll ever be that confident. I have to look minor information up in books all the time."  
  
Narcissa raised her eyebrows chidingly. "You know I don't like to hear you putting yourself down, Harry."  
  
"Fine," said Harry, and this time, his smile was a delighted grin that made Narcissa wonder how anyone could ever have hated or opposed him, or for that matter, how her own son could bring himself to argue with Harry. "Then maybe someday I'll be that confident."  
  
Narcissa would have said something to encourage that impression, but a knock on the door made her turn about. None of the elves would have knocked, and her husband was not only occupied with some business this afternoon but reluctant to intrude on a scene such as this, which left one candidate.  
  
When she glanced at Harry, she could tell by the pale set of his face that he had come to the same conclusion. "Do you want to see him right now?" Narcissa asked softly. "If not, then tell me, and I'll chase him off with one of the hexes that I used to use on my sisters when we were children."  
  
Harry choked a little. "I don't want you in trouble with him," he said, and moved to the door.  
  
"Do you imagine I fear my son?" Narcissa gave him a smile with lots of teeth. "If anything, it should appropriately be the other way around."  
  
Harry blinked a little, and then opened to the door. Draco stood on the other side with one hand raised. He promptly lowered it, looked at his mother as if he had thought Narcissa would be on the other side of the Manor ignoring all this, and then cleared his throat.  
  
Harry was gazing at him with a lovesick expression that made Narcissa nearly choke in exasperation. This was one thing that fed Harry's insecurities: he let himself fall so deeply into other people that it was easy for them to hurt him with nothing more than an expression or a few careless words.  
  
On the other hand, that same full-hearted giving of himself was the reason that her son had come to be in love with Harry, and Harry with him. It was the same reason that Narcissa was willing to give of her time and protection for Harry, and defend him from Draco if necessary. It was what had made even Lucius warm to him, and Merlin knew that Lucius didn't warm to many people.  
  
Draco took a moment to lower his head, and glanced at Harry from an angle that made his eyes look clear and vulnerable and fringed by longer eyelashes than he actually possessed. Narcissa didn't approve of the manipulative aspect of his expression, but if he could reconcile with Harry, it would serve its purpose. "I'm sorry for what I said."  
  
"Are you?" Harry studied Draco for long seconds, then looked at the floor. "But you still believe it."  
  
"You might have panicked," said Draco. "But that's not the same thing as thinking that you _can't_ do the work."  
  
"You said that, too," Harry reminded him, his words quiet, as if he hated to say it. Meanwhile, Narcissa thought Draco needed to be reminded of his own careless words as often as possible.  
  
"I was--frustrated. Upset." Draco hesitated. "Grieving, but mostly for you."  
  
Harry blinked at him. "Then you weren't thinking that you've just wasted all your time and work on me?"  
  
"No," said Draco. "If I said that, if I implied that, I'm sorry." He reached out a hand and touched Harry's cheek gently. He had forgotten about manipulation and trying to force Harry to forgive him, Narcissa thought approvingly. He was, now, only a transparent mirror for his own emotions, letting them shine through his skin, the way Harry had always been. "I want to see you try again. I want to show you that no exam can conquer anyone who belongs to the Malfoy family, whether it's by blood or not."  
  
Harry smiled back at Draco, and his eyes were so bright that Narcissa clasped her hands and slightly turned her head away. They would think she was mad now, if they happened to see the way that her face was glowing.  
  
"Can you forgive me?" Draco whispered.  
  
"If you can forgive me for not getting the right mark," Harry whispered back.  
  
"Of course," Draco said, and then took the breath Narcissa had heard him take before, when he was bracing himself for something. "It only means that we _both_ need to work harder, that's all. We can clarify some of the words they tend to use on the exams before you take them, and..."  
  
"Does that mean that you won't need my tutoring after all, Harry?" Narcissa asked gently.  
  
Harry cast her a startled glance that made it as plain as words that he'd forgotten her existence for the moment. Then he nodded and mumbled, "Thank you, Narcissa. I--appreciate it. But."  
  
He didn't need to say anything else, and neither did Draco, whose face was red. Narcissa gave them both the smallest of nods and left the room, keeping her smile small until she was down the stairs and wouldn't embarrass them by beaming.  
  
 _Then_ she smiled.  
  
 _And everything is all right again, the moment I got involved._  
  
 **The End.**


End file.
